


Of Obscurity

by ifdragonscouldtalk, Pepin_the_Short



Series: Your Worst Inhibitions (Psych AU) [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Bad Parent Sarek (Star Trek), Dadmiral Christopher Pike, Hurt James T. Kirk, Hurt Spock (Star Trek), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure James T. Kirk, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Friendship, James T. Kirk Has Issues, James T. Kirk Loves Spock, James T. Kirk Needs a Hug, M/M, McSpirk endgame, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Psych (2006) AU, Spock Has Issues (Star Trek), Spock Whump (Star Trek), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24576181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepin_the_Short/pseuds/Pepin_the_Short
Summary: “It’s almost 10. Doesn’t Spock have work?” Panic filled Jim’s chest and he swallowed hard, looking down at his watch to confirm the time. Spock was never late.“Something happened to him.”AKA the Star Trek But it's Psych (2006) AU with a side-helping of Spirk, Spones, and trauma: Episode 3.This episode - Spock misses his appointment, Jim doesn't remember ever crying this much, and Bones is just trying to keep them both from falling apart.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Your Worst Inhibitions (Psych AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656292
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	1. Father Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Talon: Hello hello! This took a bit longer than we expected but it's here now. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS! THERE IS NON-EXPLICIT AND THREATENED VIOLENCE IN THIS WORK, AS WELL AS HEAVY CONSIDERATION OF PAST CHILD ABUSE. FRANK IS A BASTARD. PLEASE SKIP THE SECTIONS STARTING WITH "Spock" IN THE FIRST CHAPTER IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO AVOID THE VIOLENCE, AND THE SECTION STARTING WITH "Sarek" IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO AVOID THE EXPLICIT REFERENCES TO PAST ABUSE. This work took us quite a bit of effort, so we'd love to hear your thoughts on it! The next two chapters are mostly comfort and angst, but please read this work carefully! A summary of the work will be included in our next installment if you'd like to skip it.   
> Pepin: As Talon said please heed the tags. Things are pretty heavy in this chapter. Also TW for forced drug use. Stay safe yall. Hope you enjoy. Pike's dynamic with the boys is a bit more explored in here. Buckle your seatbelts!

Jim was holding Spock’s hand. 

It was warm even though Spock had complained the entire time that the theater was cold, and Jim was feeling brave. He hadn’t felt so brave or so content in a long time, even though only a month ago both of them had been knocked off-kilter, old wounds resalted. He wondered if maybe he was old enough now, if maybe he was brave enough now, to love Spock like Spock loved him, like he so desperately wanted to love him.

He wanted to kiss him.

It was midnight and the stars were sparkling, and Spock had forgone his motorcycle deathtrap to allow Jim to drive him. The other movie-goers were still streaming out of the theater around them, but they had both paused, looking at each other, saying everything and nothing at all with their eyes. Jim wanted to kiss him so badly, and Spock had always been handsome but Jim thought he had never looked so beautiful, head tilted in contemplation, eyes reflecting the moonlight, quiet against the traffic and streetlights and late-night pedestrians. Jim opened his mouth to ask if he could kiss him. 

“I have a therapy appointment Monday morning.” 

The statement shocked Jim out of his romantic reverie, mouth still half-open, blinking rapidly at Spock’s somber tone. “What?”

“I scheduled a therapy appointment for Monday,” Spock repeated, looking away, but he did not remove his hand from Jim’s grasp, fingers tightening as if believing Jim would be the one to pull away. 

“I... wow, Spock, I’m so proud of you. I hope it helps.”

“I may have suggested,” Spock continued hesitantly after a cautious pause, glancing back at him. Someone nearly ran them over the edge of the sidewalk. “That you would also be in attendance.” Jim felt himself blink some more, swallowing dryly. 

“Like couple’s counseling?”

“No. Like two people who have a great deal of shared trauma and love, and both need help working through it.” Spock was looking at him again now, eyes serious as they ever were, expression unreadable. It had been a long time since Jim had been unable to read Spock. 

“Spock, I... I don’t know,” he replied helplessly, because he didn’t. Sure, recently he had been rethinking therapy, wondering if it couldn’t help flush the salt out of all those wounds and help them heal, and recently he had been hoping, really hoping, he could make himself better, so he and Spock could have that romantic, undying relationship that was always talked about in the novels. But he just didn’t know if he could do it, if he could sit there and be torn apart for an hour every three days, if he could be what Spock needed him to be, if he could tolerate the sickening romance that Spock craved to shower on whomever he loved and not feel guilty for being unable to appreciate it. He didn’t know if they were destined for an epic, undying romance, or just this, what they had. He didn’t know when what they had started being not enough. 

“I am not demanding you do, Jim,” Spock said gently, tearing him out of his downward spiral. “I am not even asking that you do. Either way, I shall be going, and I hope that it will help me. I simply... wanted to extend an invitation. You are not required to come with me. You may make your own appointment, or never make an appointment. I shall still love you.” 

“I... yeah. Thanks Spock.” 

“I do request, however, you attend breakfast with me that morning. The appointment is at 9, we may meet at the diner at 8?” Jim felt a smirk he didn’t really feel stretch his lips, squeezing Spock’s warm hand in his. 

“You asking me out on a date, Mr. Spock?”

“Perhaps, Mr. Kirk,” Spock teased back, and he was smiling, sweet and soft and nothing like what they’d suffered, and in the darkness of the night, Jim gave in, and leaned over, and kissed him. 

“I’ll be there.” 

The woman who had taken Jim’s seat was objectively beautiful. The feminine blouse she wore did nothing to hide the strength hidden in her arms, her eyes sharp as they swept over the interior of the diner. At the same time, it was God-fuck-early in the morning, and she had taken Jim’s seat. 

“You’re in my seat,” he said as he slid onto the stool next to her, the one Spock always sat in. She turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, please,” she said as he smiled at her, “don’t tell me you’re one of those weirdos who goes to the same place every day and sits in the same seat?” Jim wanted to be offended. He and Spock didn’t come here  _ every  _ day, and sometimes they took a booth. 

“No,” he said instead of admitting she was closer to the truth than he was comfortable with, reaching over for his coffee. “I ordered a coffee and then went out to buy a newspaper because my friend likes to read them. Here, look, I started to make a crawly snake, you can finish it if you want.” He indicated the crumpled straw wrapper he had stolen off the counter with a boyish grin, and she shook her head, looking like she couldn’t decide between rolling her eyes or grinning. “I’m Jim. What’s your name?”

“Uhura,” she said, peering at something over his shoulder. 

“That your first name?” he asked as she turned towards her orange juice, glancing over his shoulder to take in the sweaty, tired kid sitting in the booth near them. 

“No, but I don’t tell that to perfect strangers.”

“Aw, c’mon, we’re not strangers!” She gave him an amused glance but didn’t answer. She glanced at her hands, the callouses on her palms from hard work and exercise, at the delicate ring on her finger of finely wrought gold, considered her east-coast accent for a moment, then smiled. “I know you’re not from around here. I know that you care about what people think about you, probably because your dad taught you you needed to be tough. I know you want to wear more feminie clothes, but feel like you won’t be taken seriously if you do.” He beamed at her when she looked at him sharply, glancing down at the hand buried in her purse and looking over his shoulder again, staring at the guy as he began to fidget.

“How do you know that?” Uhura demanded, her voice hard. 

“Oh my God,” was what he replied, staring down at the purse in her lap and the hand buried in it. “You’re a fucking cop!” 

Uhura glared at him and whispered harshly, “I’m not a cop.”

He lowered his voice like he was conspiring with her. “You are. There’s a gun in your bag and you keep watching that druggie like he’s about to assault us. What are you guys bringing him in for?”

“Jim, for the love of God, shut up.”

The man behind them quickly stood and began to move toward the door. Uhura pulled the gun out of her purse aiming it at the man, along with the other undercover cops in the cafe. Detective McCoy came through the door, gun drawn, blocking the man’s exit and efficiently taking him into custody. He blinked when he finally looked up, smiling as Jim waved at him. “Oh, hi Jim.” 

“Bones!” Jim grinned as McCoy handed the man off to one of the undercover Lieutenants. “Is he part of our last case?” 

“Tangentially,” McCoy replied before wincing, apparently realizing he shouldn’t have said that. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Spock.” He frowned, watching the cops as they went about their business, efficiently cleaning the diner and heading back to the precinct. “We’re supposed to have breakfast.”

“Little late for breakfast, isn’t it?” Jim blinked at him. 

“Late?” Uhura was watching them from across the room while she listened to a rookie with a case file. It must’ve been important if she was being assigned while they were still out on another case.

“It’s almost 10. Doesn’t Spock have work?” Panic filled Jim’s chest and he swallowed hard, looking down at his watch to confirm the time. 9:54 AM. Spock was supposed to meet him at 8, and had his appointment at 9. 

Spock was never late. 

“Something happened to him.” 

There must’ve been something in his voice that made Leonard reach out to steady him, searching his face while Jim tried to tamp down on his fear and anger. Spock was never late, and always texted or called him if they needed to change plans. Half the time, he texted or called just to remind Jim that they had plans, because Jim was prone to forgetting and losing track of time. Which only left one option: that something had happened to him. It could’ve been something as benign as he got sick and overslept, but if he had gotten so sick so quickly that he would forget to tell Jim then it was certainly dangerous. He stared down at the newspaper in his hands, slightly crumpled from clutching it. 

The headline was about the Cinco Reyes bust, a follow-up article to one he had seen in passing last week, and he picked his and Spock’s names out of the article easily -- they hadn’t even, in Jim’s mind, had much of a contribution to the case. He had wondered, after they had seen Sarek in the station that day, why Spock’s father would have shown up, or how he even knew they were back in the area considering Spock had asked his mother not to tell Sarek about it, but the McCallum murder was just as high profile as the Cinco Reyes case, and they were much more involved in it. If they were in the report for Cinco Reyes, it was possible Sarek had found them through the report for McCallum, and if Sarek had found them that way, well, anyone could read a newspaper.

“Frank,” he snarled, but it came out choked. A terrible rage burned down his spine, contrasting with the cold stone of terror that settled low in his stomach, taking deep, calming breaths. He had no proof Frank had done anything, but Spock’s name mocked him from the page, telling him that they were in danger.

“Jim,” Leonard spoke his name quietly, making him look up. Concern was shining in the detective’s eyes. “Who’s Frank?” 

Jim’s hands shook. He clenched the newspaper tighter in an attempt to still them. “He’s my step-father, I haven’t seen him in years. He’s never liked Spock. He-he…” Jim stopped, searching for the right words. He wanted to go back to the very beginning, wanted to make Leonard understand why he thought, why he knew, Spock was in danger. “He always... used to threaten Spock to- to make me listen. So I wouldn’t disobey. And when Spock went to college he said... he said that he could still get his hands on him if I ran away to follow him. He threatened to kill him. I didn’t listen, I didn’t know why he even cared if I ran away or not, I followed him anyway-” His breath was coming hard and fast, and he was embarrassed, cops still milling about, some who knew him from when he was younger, who had seen the bruises on them. “I followed Spock anyway!” 

Leonard searched his face, seriously considering his words, running a hand over his jaw. “And you think Spock is in danger now, because of him? That’s why he didn’t meet you here?” Jim nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Leonard took a deep breath, mentally shifting gears. “Okay, do you want to come down to the station with me? I know it hasn’t been 24 hours, but if you think he’s in danger we can fast track a missing persons.” 

“Yes, yeah.” He glanced over at Uhura, who had approached while they were talking and was watching them both closely while she pretended to study the case file that had been handed to her. He glanced at the file out of the corner of his eye and he couldn’t control the hot sweep of terror that went through his body, shuddering, falling back against the counter as his legs weakened, adrenaline rushing to his ears. 

“Jim?” Leonard sounded anxious, and all he could do was point at the picture in the file -- a Harley, left in the high grasses by the side of the road, blood pooled next to it. Leonard spotted it and caught his breath. “Shit.”

Jim’s vision tunneled out and all he could look at was the picture of the Galileo, his ears ringing. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to estimate from the blood in the picture how bad Spock was injured, if he was instantly incapacitated or if he had the chance to get away. As he imagined how Spock had been run off the road. He felt a rough grasp on his shoulder and he was turned, now facing Leonard. 

“Jim, look at me, we need to go to the station. Can you drive right now? Or do you need me to take you there?” Jim shook his head. His eyesight was blurry and he felt like he couldn’t breathe; the last place he wanted to be was the station. He wanted Spock; wanted Chris when he still trusted them, still thought they were worth something and was willing to give them the sort of comfort no one else would. A sob choked him and he barely registered being led to Leonard’s car, a warm body against his, hiding his face from the world as they instructed him to breathe. 

He was going to kill Frank.

Spock hadn’t been truly conscious in what felt like days now, although everything was so muddled in his head that he wasn’t exactly keeping track. His body ached, dried blood and sweat itching on his skin, eyes half-slitted and blinking slowly as he stared at what appeared to be a wall. His leathers were cold against his skin. He remembered, vaguely, the accident -- lights and screeching metal and the burn of pavement against his skin -- and the boot against his skull was constantly reminded by the pounding in his head. His wrists ached, although he couldn’t remember struggling against the ropes around them, fingertips numb. 

His mouth tasted like medicine, nose still running from coughing and gagging on the water Frank forced down his throat every few hours. Some sort of sedative or sleeping medication in what looked like a double dose and two of his anti-anxieties kept him placid and barely conscious; he would worry about overdose and drug interactions if he could gather his thoughts long enough to do anything but allow tears to leak slowly from his eyes, too dazed to fully comprehend the extent of what had happened, continuing to just blink slowly. 

Frank never said anything, just hauled him up and tried to drown him. He didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know what he was planning to do, didn’t know how long it would take the meds to run out or kill him. 

But he knew sooner or later Jim would notice he was missing. 

He heard bootsteps again, heavy and uneven, approaching his door like clockwork. At least, he assumed it was like clockwork. When the door opened he was shivering, chills and fear controlling his body. Frank’s face was blurry, but he knew he would be wearing the same look of anger and disgust he always wore when Spock came over, because when Spock was over, Frank had to be careful. Had to be conscious of where he would bruise the police officer’s boy, if the police officer’s boy was going to get in his way. 

A hand that smelled of tobacco and alcohol buried itself in his greasy hair and forced his head up. He didn’t fight it, couldn’t, had no strength or thought to fight it. He coughed, lungs protesting the movement, aspirated water making his chest hurt. Frank dug his fingers into his jaw, forced his mouth open, and the taste of pills melting lingered on his tongue; he wondered if he’d ever be able to take his anti-anxieties again without throwing up. He coughed on the water again, burning down his nose and throat, and was grateful at the collapse back onto the cold floor, shuddering uncontrollably. 

“You gonna kill me?” he asked through a slurred tongue, swollen and unused, and didn’t sound like himself. Frank paused, silence ringing through the room. “Finally make good on your promise, Frank?”

Frank smiled, he actually fucking smiled, and Spock felt even colder than before. “No, kid, because you’re gonna save my hide.”

Spock felt his eyebrows knit together, but before he could get another word out, before he could string another sentence together, he was out again, eyes closing against an irresistible weight.

Sarek was there again, at the station, glaring his glare, calm as can be. Jim saw him and suddenly his vision was a rush of red, understanding and anger making him stumble. “You,” he snarled, and Sarek continued to glare. “You did this to us. You’re the one who gave our files away, didn’t you? I know it was you. Why are you here?” 

“We had to call him, Jim,” Leonard said quietly at his side, a restraining hand on his arm. “He’s Spock’s nearest relative.”

“Spock isn’t related to him,” Jim spat back, refusing to break eye contact with Sarek, hating his cool expression. “He said when Spock went to college for pre-med instead of criminal justice that he no longer had a son.”

“I do not have a son,” Sarek confirmed, and Jim burned inside. 

“Why have you been studying us?” He knew, even without confirmation, without any reaction from Sarek, that he had given Jocelyn their sealed files. “Did you give it to Frank too? Did you tell him where Spock lives? Do you hate us that much that you’d watch the man who used to be your son die?!”

Sarek didn’t reply, just continued to stare at him cooly. Jim rushed forward, fisting his hand in the fabric of his shoulder, pushing Sarek back until he bumped the wall. “Why can’t you just leave us alone!?” His voice cracked but he didn’t care.

“You are the one who violated the restraining order.”

“You and your  _ piece of shit _ restraining order. You think if you get me out of the picture Spock will go back to you? He’s  _ never _ going to be under your thumb again! You were just as bad as Frank was! That’s the reason Amanda left you!”

Sarek shoved him back at that, rage sparking in his eyes. “Do not speak about my family to me!”

“I used to be a part of that family!” he screamed, shoving Sarek bodily into the wall while Leonard scrabbled at his shoulders. “I used to be welcome at your table! You think I’m the reason Spock kept ‘failing’ you, that I’m the reason he questioned what you were doing, but it was the opposite! He’s the one who told  _ me _ what was happening to us was wrong!  _ You’re _ the one who broke us all!” 

Sarek stared at him, disbelief and shock cracking through his stoic mask. “You blame me? I was just doing what any good father does, teaching lessons. Spock just was not a good enough son.”

“Lessons?” he spat, fury rising hot to his ears. “You abandoned him with only a knife overnight in the woods near the lake to teach him survival skills! You locked him in a trunk for three hours to see if he would figure out how to get out! You gave him a gun and told him he would shoot straight or else! Those aren’t lessons, that’s  _ torture, _ that’s a kid being conditioned into the good little soldier you wanted! And then you let me join, and you did the same things to a kid you knew was being beaten! You wanted him to be just as bastardous and abusive as you are, a good little fucking cop, and he’s not!” His voice was echoing through the precinct, and there were more hands trying to pull him away as he shoved Sarek again and again. 

Sarek’s face morphed into something mean and cold, his eyes hard. “Well it seems they were for naught anyway, if he had learned anything then he wouldn’t be missing.”

Fury consumed him and he screamed it out, needing it to stop burning his heart. He hauled back, ready to smash in the face of the man he had once considered a father. 

Leonard was the one that caught his arm as he reared it back, winding up for the strike. He separated the two of them, Jim thrashing in his hold. He couldn’t get any leverage with the way Leonard had crossed his arms, pinning his wrists to his sides. He raged and screamed, a broken, choked noise, before he sagged against him as the detective led him away, murmuring soothing words.

“He sold Spock! He sold him and he doesn’t care!” 

“I know, Jim, I know, save your energy, he's not worth it. Let’s focus on finding Spock.”

Leonard led him to a conference room, blinds closed tight as he dropped down into a chair. He sat calmly across from him, a mask evident from years of practice, but Jim was grateful for it nonetheless. “You said Frank took him? Do you know what he looks like or where he lives?”

Jim breathed, trying to control himself as the rage settled back into his bones where it belonged, trying to wipe Sarek’s words from his mind. “No. Mom divorced him when I ran away, I guess she thought I would forgive her if she did and come back. I don’t know if he changed his name back or not, but when he lived with me it was Kirk. She kicked him out of the house. I didn’t know he was still in Santa Barbara, though I suspected.” 

Leonard ran his hands through his hair, nervous energy bleeding through for a moment before he settled. He sighed. “Okay, Jim, no problem. You have a description?” 

Jim let out a hard breath, face going to his hands. “No, not really, I haven’t seen him in awhile. Um, about 5’11”, dark-short hair. He used to have a beard but I don’t know if he still does. In his late fifties-early sixties. His old last name used to start with a G, he had some monogrammed stuff. Frank was his given name.” 

“I’ll put an APB out.” He stood, heading toward the door. “Jim, are you good here? I’ll be right back, yeah?”

_ I’ll be back soon, sweetie, just this last trip, I promise. _ His mom’s words echoed in his head. He turned away, staring out the window onto the street, eyes burning but dry. 

“Yeah,” he said, because there was nothing he could do to prevent it anyway. 

He left, shutting the door on the way out. Silence remained.

Spock blearily opened his eyes. He had managed to work his new, and now once again shattered, phone out of his pocket, fighting desperately against the artificial exhaustion that weighed him down. He could see the screen, could even navigate it with little difficulty using his nose, once he had managed to turn the thing on. It, thankfully, had a tiny amount of battery left, since it hadn’t been used in days and had been off for most of that time -- enough that he might be able to call Jim, if he could get any damn signal in the basement or wherever he was. 

“Oh, hey,” from behind him made him flinch, jerking into a fetal position in defense. He hadn’t heard Frank’s footsteps, hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t realized it was that time again. “I was meaning to take that. Thanks for reminding me.” He didn’t resist, couldn’t, as Frank leaned down and plucked his phone off the floor, pausing with a considering look in blood-shot eyes before snapping a picture, the flash making him flinch once more. “Prepare yourself, brat.” 

“For what?” he slurred out against his better judgement. Frank grinned, crazed and cold, and Spock shivered against his own will, his breath feeling trapped in his chest. 

“You’re getting out of here. Best be on good behavior. They might even feed you.” 

The door was slammed shut once again before Spock could even begin to process the words, unwanted tears welling up in his eyes as quiet sobs rocked his chest. Sometimes it felt like he had been cold all his life, always craving warmth, but he had never been colder than this. 

He wanted Jim. 

Jim who was always warm, his own personal sun. Bright. Stunning. 

He wanted Jim.

They’d been searching for hours now, with nothing turning up. Leonard had come back to the room with Chief Pike in tow after putting out the APB and giving out some tasks. Neither one of them would leave him alone for more than thirty minutes, one of them always staying with him. Leonard had brought back a sandwich for him this time, wanting him to eat, but Jim wasn’t hungry. He was restless and it showed, temper shortening as the minutes ticked past. He had been terse with Chris, answering his questions in the beginning but in no mood to interact, let alone talk with him now.

Jim considered throwing his phone against the wall when it buzzed, sure it was his boss, but glanced at it anyway, feeling shaky and unreal. Some sound must’ve escaped him because Chris and Leonard were at his side in an instant, questioning him. “It’s from Spock,” he whispered, staring at the text notification. It was an image, or a video. He was almost afraid to open it. 

It was surprising that he saw the caption first. ‘He’s crying now like the bitch he is.’ 

Leonard pinned his wrist in an instant, keeping him from throwing the phone. 

“Breathe, Jim.”

“I’m breathing,” he felt himself say, but the voice wasn’t his. “I’m breathing.” His body was tense, Pike pressed against one side and Bones on the other, both muttering meaningless nothings in his ear. “Find him,” he snarled at them, eyes burning as he looked at them. “Can’t you do your job and find one damn house?!” His face was wet, hot, and he hated it, angry at himself but more angry at Frank. “I told you who it is! Just find him! Look at what he’s done to Spock!” 

Leonard gripped his shoulder, solid, grounding. “We know, Jim, it just takes some time to get a warrant is all, and there’s no properties listed under his name. We want to get into this bastard’s house the moment we find it.” 

He shrugged out of the grip, opting to place his head down on the table, his hands buried in his hair. 

The Chief finally spoke, tone hushed. “We’re going to find him, Jim, whatever it takes.”

“Don’t,” he snarled, because he was angry, and he had never stopped being angry, really, not at Pike. He stood. “Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ say that to me right now, you damn- You don’t even know what you did to us. You don’t know! Don’t fucking act like you care right now! At least Sarek and Frank were fucking honest! At least they didn’t pretend to care about us!” 

Pike gripped his arm, turning him so they faced each other. He looked at him hard, his tone banded steel, and Jim flinched back from it, feeling like his blood was trembling in his veins. “We’re going to find him, whatever it takes. You can rage at me all you want, Jim, that’s fine, but just know that I am  _ not  _ going to stop until he’s found.” 

There was care there, a care he had craved for so damn long, a care he and Spock had thought they’d lost. It was soft and desperate, like Chris didn’t know what to do with it, like he had tried to rid himself of it and couldn’t. 

Something within him broke. Or maybe it broke more, shattered so irreparably he couldn’t hide it anymore, a dam cracking after years of abuse, left to flood the plains of his mind. His body shuddered without his orders, breaths choked on sobs, and he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Pike, desperate for the comfort he used to give them, hiding his face in the warm space of his chest as he cried. “He looks so scared,” he sobbed. “Fuck, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault!” He could feel Leonard’s hands on his back, rubbing circles, and he didn’t know what he needed but prayed they could give it to him anyway. 

“It’s not your fault, Jim.” Pike wrapped his arms around him, holding him almost as tight, and normally it would make him feel suffocated but now he just felt grounded. “We’re going to find him.” His phone was slipped out of numb fingers, someone murmuring behind him, Uhura and Leonard he thought. Probably tracking Spock’s phone -- they had tried earlier, but it had been turned off or broken. 

“It is, it is my fault, I should’ve left him, I shouldn’t have followed him-”

“Jim, if you or Spock could stand the thought of leaving each other alone more than 24 hours, you wouldn’t be the people you are.” Jim let out a wet little huff, too sad to be a laugh, but still colored with wry amusement. “We’re trying to track his phone signal down right now, and when we find him I’ll arrest Frank myself,” Chris said, and added after a moment, “Or shoot him, I haven’t decided yet.”

Jim pulled back as a tear crawled down his cheek, scrubbing his face and breathing deeply, evenly, just like he and Spock had practiced. He didn’t know what was more overwhelming, his terror or his rage. “You’ll have to wait in line, Chris.”

The Chief snorted. “Right.” He sighed before he continued, “Listen, I know waiting right now is the worst, but we can’t do anything else. The phone trace should be done soon now that his phone is on, and the warrant will hopefully be back within the hour.” 

It wasn’t fast enough, not when he had already been missing for who knew how long. But it was the best they could do, Jim knew, and he couldn’t do anything to change that. He nodded, his body feeling unreal and distant, and allowed the sounds and action of the precinct to surround him and draw him out of his mind into a blank space where he didn’t exist anymore.

“Chief,” Bones said softly, but Jim heard it, looking up with sore eyes as he was drawn abruptly back into his own body. Both investigators glanced at him, and something must’ve shown on his face, because neither decided to move to a location he couldn’t hear. “This may be worse than we thought. The house we managed to track Spock’s phone signal to? It’s on our list of suspected Cinco Reyes’ properties, up on the northside near the trails.” Jim’s hands shook as he covered his mouth, trying to force back fresh tears as his mind connected the dots, finding the pattern that he had ignored. 

“Shit,” he whispered, and Chris and Leonard were staring at him. “Spock saw it, when he looked at the map. I didn’t ask him what he’d seen, I should’ve asked him. Frank was always bugging Mom to move northside so he could go hunting, there was this one house he was always looking at-” 

“McCoy, you were right, there’s a Frank Garretts mentioned in a few of the statements we took from the guys we have in custody, apparently he’s a bookie.” Uhura’s face was serious, and Jim grit his teeth, trying to reel in the whirlwind of his emotions that was rippling through him, strong enough that he was sure the others should’ve been able to sense them in the air. 

“So you have enough to get a warrant now, right?” 

“It’s fast tracked, we’ll have it within the hour. Scotty is on it.” 

Jim stood, pacing, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “That’s not fast enough. He could- he could-”

“Jim, he’s going to be okay.” Leonard gripped his arm, strong and sure, a grounding force that Jim was helpless to. He relaxed minutely, nodding wordlessly and sitting once more, his voice caught in his throat and making it hard to swallow. Leonard looked at him intently, blue eyes piercing and sure. “I promise Jim, you’ll get him back. We’ll bring him home.” 

More tears slipped silently down his face. Absently, he realised that he’d probably cried more that day than he had in years, but that didn’t matter right then. It didn’t matter that it felt like his heart was split straight down the middle. All that mattered was getting Spock back, getting his best friend back. And maybe, right now, he could trust that promise. 


	2. Son Scorned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepin: Hey yall, hope you enjoy angst! Cause you're about to get some! Some warnings apply for this chapter (right Talon?). [Tal: Pep you.... you have no idea which chapter we're posting do you?] Have a nice weekend yall! (Also don't worry, lots of comfort in the next chapter as well as Jim Finally dealing with his emotions)  
> Talon: I don't have anything to say for this chapter except that Pep forgot we'd already edited it and was going to put it off another day. We finished this chapter before we finished chapter one... Yes I am using this time to make fun of her. Warning for choking and forced drug use, but this chapter is not as heavy as the last one! Next chapter: therapy~~~

“What is this bullshit, Frank?” someone spat, their voice echoing in the cold quiet, startling Spock out of his exhausted doze. “You said you had our money, not some dude that smells like piss.” 

“No, I said I had as good as your money. Here it is. This is the bastard that took down your operation.” 

Spock’s back was to the door -- he couldn’t stand staring at it anymore, thinking about when the next time Frank would walk through it would be, wondering if someone else would come through and rescue him. He guessed that wasn’t going to happen. Worse, he had underestimated Frank: selling him to the mob was infinitely worse than anything the man could do to him alone, since it could only be Cinco Reyes whose operation he had taken down. 

“What the fuck are we going to do with him, huh? People are going to suspect us, you idiot!” 

“I thought you would want the person responsible for taking down your operation at the docks?” Boots stomped in front of him -- Frank’s boots, he knew them well by now -- and a sharp kick to his stomach had him rolling over, coughing as his lungs rebelled against him once again, blinking bleary eyes as he took in the gangsters staring down at him in disgust.

He didn’t expect a gasp. 

“Hey! I recognise that guy. He didn’t take down the operation, he just followed his dumb friend in.” 

No fucking way. Spock let his eyelids close again, exhaustion pushing at him from all sides, and he wasn’t sure if this made things better or worse. He hadn’t even known the man who had been guarding him and Jim had escaped, figuring he had been arrested with the rest of those who had still been in the warehouse when Leonard stormed it.

“Rico, what are you talking about?” There was a fair amount of confusion and anger in the voice, and Spock had a sinking sense of nausea when he realized only bad things could occur from here on. None of them, Frank included, could afford to let him go. His nose dipped towards the floor, head pounding in his skull, his father screaming in his head about statistics and ways to escape ropes and what to do if he ever encountered the mob, all as useless as they had been when he’d forced the lessons into him. 

“I was guarding him and his friend, dude looked like he was going to puke the whole time. They weren’t even any trouble. His friend thought the building was empty and broke in and this guy followed him.” 

It was Frank’s turn to sound confused. “He’s the one who called the police.” 

“What? No, he called his crush, I heard him talking to his Leonard.” 

There was a horrible silence.

“Excuse me?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was confusion and anger rolled into one. 

“Yeah, Leonard just got a divorce a few months ago, I think. His friend wanted him to make his move but he just got out of a messy divorce, you know? So it really wouldn’t be the right time and he didn’t even know if Leonard liked him.” Rico apparently had a problem with talking too much and about all the wrong things, a problem Spock was familiar with from Jim.

“He called the police,” Frank repeated.

“I can clarify,” Spock said quietly, his voice disused and thick, because his meds always made him talkative and he had been riding an overdose for two days now. “Leonard is the police, so I, in fact, called both.” 

There was a dismissive tsk. “What kind of drugs do you have this guy on? One man can’t be the police.”

“Just anti-anxiety and sedatives.” 

“He is trying to kill me,” Spock whispered, because now that he had started talking he didn’t want to stop, and Jim always thought he was funny when he was like this, and Jim wasn’t here to fill the silence and Rico kept talking about Leonard and that made him sad. 

“I am not, shut up. Damn, now you decide to talk, you brat?” 

“You are. You have given me double doses of the medications every few hours, you are attempting to kill me and you are doing it very poorly.” There was snort from the opposite direction. “You also wrecked my motorcycle, which was very mean and not cool at all, thank you very much. I am upset about it, I have had the Galileo for almost twelve years. I also haven’t had anything to eat, which is not nice.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank snarled, and Spock opened his eyes to glare. 

“Why? Do you not want these gangsters to know what kind of bastard you are, that you abused me and your son for years? I am no longer afraid of you, Frank. I am about to die anyway.”

The older man that had spoken to Rico spoke up again. “Frank, is this about a fucking personal vendetta? You’re on thin fucking ice as it, and I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now.” 

“He always did say he would kill me,” Spock said matter-of-factly, letting his eyes fall closed once more. “But I did call the police, so I suppose I am the cause of your operation at Tylers’ being shut down. Although, really, I believe you didn’t hide it very cleverly.” 

Someone spluttered, probably that older man. His voice was pitched high with disbelief when he said, “Excuse me?!”

“It only took Jim and I one afternoon to find it. The police are just stupid. They’ve always been stupid, though. That is why this bastard got away with what he did.” A grin broke out across his face, and Frank kicked at his back to try and make him stop talking. He wouldn’t though, the pain was nothing. His voice had always been his greatest weapon. “Which is why he is so scared right now. Because he knows the first thing Jim would have done is go to Leonard, and Leonard is the police, and Jim is not stupid like they are. Jim and Leonard will be coming any second. It is Monday? Oh yes, any second.” 

He was bluffing, but it was nice to squint his eyes open and see the shock of fear and anger on Frank’s face, the rage on the older man’s and the fear on Rico’s, when he acted like he had been biding his time, waiting for a rescue he wasn’t positive would come. 

There was a knock at the front door. 

His eyes snapped open, just as surprised as the rest of them, so he saw when Frank snarled angrily and leaned down to wrap his hands around his throat, squeezing as he bucked and squirmed and tried to breathe. “You fucking son of a bitch!” Frank shouted as Spock gagged, feeling Sarek’s hands instead, his voice calmly instructing him how to break a strangle-hold, hands twitching in their bonds behind his back. “I’m going to kill you just like I always promised, and then I’m going to fucking kill Jim too, but not until he’s seen your body!” 

“Just answer the fucking door Frank!” someone yelled over the ocean ringing in his ears, darkness sparking in his eyes. Frank’s rank breath washed over him, warming chilled cheeks, and the hands at his throat tightened before pulling away just as his eyes began to roll back, consciousness fleeting.

Spock was left shuddering for breath as Frank ascended the stairs, feet heavy on the floor in anger. Silence rang about the room, save Spock’s desperate breathing, and he wondered what the gangsters would do, now that they were alone with him. Wondered if Jim was truly there to save him. 

Frank pulled open the front door to two officers and a squad car outside. 

“I’m Detective McCoy and this is my partner Detective Uhura. We have a warrant to search the premises.” 

“What for?” Frank slowly pulled the door open for the two detectives, glancing down to verify there was no blood on his clothes.

“We’ve traced the phone of a missing person to this location,” Uhura replied, and her eyes seemed to stare straight through him. “We have reason to believe he may be on the premises.” 

“Well, I haven’t seen anyone, but go ahead.” He gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn’t refuse the warrant without being arrested for obstruction of justice. He had made a mistake, sending that picture to taunt Jim, but he hadn’t expected that the spineless brat would really call the police. He wondered if he could play it off that he didn’t know this was a gang house and he was just squatting. “You know, I don’t come here that often. Just during the summer sometimes, for hunting.”

“I’m sure you don’t, Frank Garretts,” a new cop said as he stepped out of the police car he hadn’t noticed was pulling up. “You’re under arrest for connections to the Cinco Reyes gang, and the only reason I’m not also charging you with child abuse is because the statute of limitations is up on that.” Frank blinked, trying to play innocent as the man stalked forward and he heard the detectives banging around in the kitchen, but it was lost in rage as he watched Jim emerge from the passenger side of the car -- older, tireder, far angrier, but unmistakably James Kirk. 

Frank stormed forward, rage hardening his face. “You brat! How dare you come back here?!” he shouted, face turning a mottled red. He sidestepped the cop, going directly for the child who had made his life difficult for so many years. Jim cowered for a split second before something like steel hardened in his eyes and he stepped forward, shoving himself into Frank’s space. 

“You took someone of mine. I want him back,” Jim snarled. His eyes were rimmed red from crying.

Frank threw himself bodily at Jim, but before he could make contact, someone grabbed the back of his neck and kicked his feet out from under him, sending him to the dirt. His nose made hard impact with the ground and he could feel blood bubble from it, breathing in the dust through his mouth, tasting the scent of the forest. The cold bite of steel cut into his wrists, cuffs clicking into place. 

“You don’t dare touch him, you rat bastard. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to-”

“Chief, we’ve got him!” the female detective shouted from inside the house, and blood pounded louder in Frank’s ears, thrashing angrily under the cop. He watched as Jim stepped away, glaring down at him like he was shit on his boot, and headed towards the house. 

“He’ll never be the same,” he snarled at his back. “He’ll never fucking love you again after this. How could he? You did this to him!” 

Jim stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Maybe so. It doesn’t matter, I’ll still love him. And if he wants me to leave, I’ll leave. I’ll do whatever he needs to help him heal from you, because he did the same for me.” He started walking again. “I’m not scared of you anymore, you bastard.” 

Spock looked bad. He looked worse than the photo had made it seem.

It didn’t help that the whole room smelled like ammonia, and that Jim was still trembling with fear from seeing Frank again. It didn’t help that Spock seemed barely able to keep his eyes open, Leonard supporting him from behind while Uhura massaged feeling back into his arms and called for an ambulance. “There were men here,” Spock was saying, voice quiet and breaking. 

“Cinco Reyes?” It was Leonard who asked him, hands gently ghosting over his body, searching for injuries. Jim swallowed hard, kneeling next to them as Spock looked at him blearily. 

Spock nodded, eyes slipping closed. “They ran when Frank went to answer the door.” 

“Well, shit. Nevermind, Spock, we can find them later. We’ve got a bus on the way, we’ll get you sorted.” Spock nodded again, head tipping against Leonard’s shoulder heavily, and he squinted his eyes back open to look at Uhura, flinching when her fingers brushed over a tender spot on his wrist. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, always a consummate gentleman, and Jim almost wanted to start laughing. “I am Spock. I promise I do not normally smell this bad.” 

Uhura huffed a laugh despite the situation. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Spock rolled his head slightly on Leonard’s shoulder, looking for Jim. Jim, who still hadn’t said anything yet. He blinked a few times before raising an eyebrow. “Jim?” 

“Hm.” Jim looked up from where he was grasping his knees with shaking hands, tears streaming unbidden and unnoticed from his eyes. Spock’s face crumpled at the sight, reaching out with one shaking hand to clumsily grasp Jim’s wrist, gently tugging him as if he could move him.

Jim released the death grip on his knee, holding Spock’s hand gently in his own. He shuffled as close as he could without disturbing Spock or sitting on Leonard. “Sorry,” Spock whispered, frowning at Jim’s tears. 

Jim shook his head viciously. He took a deep breath before letting it out and pat Spock’s knee a few times, gently. He didn’t know where Spock was injured and he really didn’t want to disrupt any of them. He rarely got like this anymore, but seeing Spock like this reminded him of too many scared nights huddling with Spock and his jaw stuck, tongue like lead with tears burning the back of his throat. Spock’s eyes slipped closed again, hand tightening in Jim’s despite its weakness and shaking, and he swallowed again, trying to stomach down the lead. 

“Love you,” Spock said, unashamed, and Jim wished he had the same confidence to say such words in public even as they punched him in the chest, making him draw a shuddering, desperate breath as more tears itched down his throat. “Knew you’d figure it out, Jim.” 

Jim nodded, breath hitching, his tears finally stopping because he had no more to cry, head pounding with dehydration. He pressed Spock’s hand to his face, trying to both comfort and draw comfort from the one he almost lost. “Can you walk, Spock?” Leonard asked quietly, still supporting him. 

“I am unsure,” Spock answered, voice soft and rough with disuse. 

“It’ll be easier if we can get you outside before the paramedics arrive,” Uhura said, and Spock nodded, meeting Jim’s gaze evenly. 

“I shall try.” Leonard nodded, glancing between them. 

“C’mon Jim, let’s see if we can get him upstairs.” Jim nodded back, breath shuddering in his chest, and he let Spock’s hand fall, pulling deep at his well of bravery, the same well that had allowed him to walk away from Frank without collapsing, to lean over and press a soft, chaste kiss to Spock’s lips, quick enough to deny, and stand. 

Spock’s steps stuttered after three, his legs weak and balance non-existent, but between Leonard, Uhura, and Jim they were able to get him upstairs, settling him back down on the porch. Frank had been taken away by then, the only remnant of him the few drops of blood on the ground from when his nose made contact with the hard packed earth. Uhura had found the medications Frank had used on the kitchen table and now they were clutched in Jim’s hand, the pills rattling ominously inside their plastic containers. 

The ambulance arrived in a cacophony of bright lights, breaking the stillness that had settled around them. The paramedics quickly loaded Spock on the gurney, Jim trailing after them, Spock’s hand back in his, not giving any indication he would let go any time soon. 

“I’ll see you there,” Leonard promised them, and caught Uhura’s raised eyebrow next to him, but didn’t bother to justify himself to her when he could barely justify the strange relationship he had with them to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let us know what you think! Comments are always welcome, we love talking to you!!


	3. Heaven's Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well it's nice to finally meet you, Spock. I'll admit I was surprised you rescheduled. What happened last week?" It wasn't uncommon for patients to miss appointments, especially new patients, and she made sure her tone was sympathetic and unaccusing. 
> 
> "I was kidnapped," came the soft-spoken answer. "I apologize for missing our appointment." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talon: Here's that therapy we promised y'all! Lots of comfort in this chapter, LOTS of lovey-dovey grossness (ew), as well as some new characters! No warnings for this one, unless painful lack of self-confidence gives you squicks. Just a note, Pepin and I are going to be taking a short break from this work to focus on our other project for a bit! We'll be back in a few months, though, don't worry your pretty faces about it. We've got a lot planned. Until then, Pep is working on a few things and I have several active fics on my profile, so please check out our individual works!   
> Pepin: Hey what's up yall, we hit Comfort City. Jim is finally made to talk about his emotions and Spock gets therapy! We also get that good, good Bones content. My brain is currently melting through my ears from my summer classes so I cant really think of anything else to say. Hope you enjoy!

Three hours later Leonard was finally freed from the precinct and then the waiting room, now standing in front of Spock’s door. Joanna was already asleep by now, and he mourned the missed time with his little girl, but it was difficult to regret the demands of his work when he saw the bruises painting Spock’s skin and knew that he had prevented any more.

He wasn’t expecting Spock to be alone, sitting up in bed and staring at the wall, when he entered the room. He was, quite sensibly he thought, expecting Jim to be sitting there, considering how distraught the man had been. Spock didn’t acknowledge his presence until the door slid shut with a quiet click, glancing over at him with glazed eyes. “Detective.”

“Spock. Jim just step out?” A tray of food was sitting nearly untouched next to the bed where Spock had apparently pushed it away, his hands resting listlessly in his lap. Spock shook his head, slowly, blinking a few times, the glaze clearing slightly from his gaze. 

“No. I believe he found a nurse or someone. It is unlikely he will be back before tonight.” Leonard frowned. 

“A nurse or someone to-?”

“Hook up with,” Spock answered, staring at the black TV screen in the corner, apparently unconcerned that his boyfriend was cheating on him just after a hugely traumatic experience. 

“He’s  _ what? _ ” Leonard didn’t stop the anger in his voice, and regretted it when Spock flinched and cowered away, finally meeting his eyes with a scared gaze, confused. “Why- he’s cheating on you?” Spock frowned again, more confused, staring as he apparently attempted to gather his thoughts. 

“No. Detective, Jim and I are not dating.” 

The anger left Leonard all at once, replaced with shock, and his eyebrows crept up his forehead. “You aren’t dating?”

“No, we are not.” 

“But you... love each other?” Spock sighed, looking down at his hands as they picked at the thick blanket covering his legs.

“Yes, we do. Jim does not do relationships. We love each other a great deal, but I cannot be what he needs, and he cannot be what I need. We are simply friends.” 

Leonard doubted they were 'simply' anything. He studied him, the slumped line of his shoulders, the bruises on his face, and wondered how if Jim loved Spock he could stand to run away from him at a time like this, when he needed comfort the most. But he was in no place to judge. “How long have you waited for him?” he asked, softly, and Spock sighed again. 

“Too long.” Spock glanced over at him. "But he's worth it to me." 

Leonard sighed and sat down, rubbing his hands together as he considered what he was about to say. It was stupid, and far too fast, but he felt a connection to Spock and Jim, like he had meant to meet them. So he had to say: “For a long time, that’s how I felt about Jocelyn, too.” 

Spock looked up at him sharply, eyebrows drawn together, anger burning in his eyes. “Jim is nothing like her.” 

“I’m not saying he is,” he said with a self-deprecating smile, “just that I waited far too long for someone to love me back in the way that I loved them.” 

Spock deflated all at once, like a bird smoothing down its feathers, glancing back at the blank TV screen. “I do not know what it’s like not to love him. But I am willing to love someone else, if they believe I have room for both.” Leonard blinked at that, not knowing what to say. Spock shrugged, just as self-deprecating, closing his eyes. “So far, no one has believed I am able. They dislike that Jim and I refuse to stop loving each other.” 

“Well that’s stupid.” Spock glanced at him, shrugging again. 

“Jim and I are... strange. There is perhaps no other word to describe it. It has been a source of...” Leonard waited as Spock chose his words carefully. “A source of alienation for our entire lives. Jim has, perhaps, fared better in that aspect. He was more compelled to hide than I was, and was always far better at connecting to others.” 

Leonard thought for a moment. “Well, you two may be strange, but you’re also some of the most kind and selfless people I’ve ever met.” He had very little to base the conclusion off of, but he still felt it was true, clear in the way they interacted with each other and the world around them, clear in the manner they crashed into his life in the first place.

Spock looked dumbstruck, raising a brow in his direction. Leonard took in the bruises and cuts on his face, cleaned and blossoming darkly now, the handprints becoming visible around his neck, and felt his breath catch in his chest, imagining Jim with the same bruises, imagining them both young and suffering that. “Indeed?”

“Yeah, indeed,” he grumbled, teasing. 

A grin broke over Spock’s face, slow and hesitant, but wide, making his eyes crinkle. Leonard’s breath caught for a different reason this time, but he very firmly pushed it away. Now was not the time, or ever. He grinned back. 

A knock at the door interrupted them. Leonard saw Spock look up, and watched that smile die fast, melting into a neutral expression, displeasure shown in the furrow between his brows. He turned to see Chris standing at the door, a coffee in hand and an amused expression on his face. 

“Got room for one more?” he asked as he stepped inside, and Leonard snorted, trying to ease the sudden tension in the room. 

“Depends on what you’re here for, and what you’re offering.” 

The Chief’s expression faltered slightly as Spock continued to stare silently. “Just wanted to see how you were doing, Spock. You gave us all quite a scare.”

“I am functional,” Spock replied evenly, something like distrust in his voice as he glanced down at his bruised wrists. “I apologize for the inconvenience I caused, I shall endeavor to be more careful in the future. I would not want to use up such important resources in your precinct, after all.” 

Chris stood stock still and quiet for a moment, slight shock in his eyes. He furrowed his brow slightly, serious. “Spock, you listen to me… I know you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. But don't you think for one second that there was anything more important than making sure you were found. Important resources be damned, making sure you were found and safe was the only thing that mattered.” It sounded surprisingly like the lecture he had given Jim only hours ago that Leonard had also been privy to, and again he wondered the full story of what had happened between the three. Spock continued to stare, apparently considering how he would respond. He settled on a shrug and a glance away, quiet. Chris apparently didn’t accept that, stepping closer and crossing his arms until Spock looked back, frowning. 

“Perhaps that is a new mindset the SBPD have adopted,” he finally said, words scathing but voice even, and Leonard almost wanted to gasp like a Southern Belle, his eyes widening against his will.

Chris tensed and looked away, before sighing. “I know I’ve done you wrong, Spock. I’m sorry and I know I can never apologise enough.”

“It is not I that I care about, Chief.” Spock stopped again, apparently struggling to find his words. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have believed me about Sarek. Perhaps what he did was... correct. He never hit me, after all. But we showed you Jim’s bruises, and you said we were lying. I cannot forget that, however much I want to.” He laughed, a harsh thing, unhappy. “And then you allowed Sarek to abuse his power against us, to separate us. Perhaps Jim has forgotten that, but I have not. You allowed him to file those reports, Christopher. I know how you felt, back then, even if you have changed your mind now. You agreed with him. You believed Jim and I should be separated. I cannot so easily forgive you. So forgive me, for continuing to hold it against you. I am... trying.” Chris was tighter than a bowstring, his jaw clenched, but he bravely met Spock’s gaze, taking a deep breath and considering before responding.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me Spock. I was wrong and hurt you and Jim. Sorry just doesn’t cut it, I know that. You can hate or distrust me for the rest of my life, that’s okay. I just want you to know that I don’t need you to forgive me in order for me to give you the care that I should’ve shown then. I’ve always been honest with you about what I’m thinking, Spock, you know that. So please, believe me when I say there was absolutely nothing more important than finding you, and even if we hadn’t had any evidence I would’ve broken down that bastard’s door to get you back.” Leonard was sitting still, afraid of interrupting or somehow drawing their attention, in case he wasn’t supposed to hear any of what they had said. It certainly clarified some things for him. 

He honestly thought the moment couldn’t get any more awkward when Jim strolled in, shirt wrinkled and hair sticking up, only to pause in the doorway. “Uh, hey everyone,” he said eloquently, and Leonard saw out of the corner of his eye as Spock dashed away tears from the corner of his eye angrily once attention was drawn away from him. 

“Jim,” he said, and his voice didn’t sound significantly changed to Leonard, but something shifted in Jim’s face at the tone, glancing between him and Chris. 

“Hey Spock,” he replied, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Plan hasn’t changed in the hour I’ve been gone, right?” 

“No, it has not. They are still keeping me overnight to ensure the drugs do not adversely affect me.”

“Still tired?” This was said with a significant look in Chris’ direction, and Leonard suddenly realized what had happened. Spock, in his own way, had called upon Jim for protection, still scared and injured and suddenly thrown into a confrontation he was unprepared for. Leonard and Jim knew how distraught Chris had been, but Spock had no way of knowing -- he had been trapped with one of his worst childhood nightmares for the better part of three days, and was apparently suffering a resurgence of every bad emotion associated with it, and Chris was unfortunately lumped in with those. 

“A bit,” Spock replied, hesitant and, now that Leonard was looking, clearly overwhelmed. 

Jim nodded, smiling softly. “Why don’t we let you get some rest? I’ll take your tray back to the nurses’ station and come right back. Leonard, Chris, why don’t you two come back tomorrow?”

“I still owe them a statement, Jim.” 

Leonard waved him off as he stood, giving him a grin and a careful pat on the shoulder. “That can wait for tomorrow, Spock. Get some rest.”

Both Leonard and the Chief said their goodbyes. Before they were halfway out the door Jim called out to them, “Careful in the parking lot, damn goose chased me around for nearly an hour.”

Leonard couldn’t help glancing back through the open door after Jim had deposited Spock’s still-full tray to the nurses to see them both on Spock’s bed, whispering to one another, tears glistening on Spock’s face. He turned away quickly, looking at Chris’ dejected form as they strolled out of the hospital, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We did good today, Chief.” Chris blew out a breath as he glanced at him, abandoning his coffee to a nearby trashcan.

“Sure. I need a damn drink.” 

Jim was staring at the blank TV screen when Leonard entered the next morning to get Spock’s statement, bed empty and ruffled and the shower in the attached bathroom running. Jim hadn’t noticed him yet, even as he stepped into the room, a somber expression on his face as he stared out into the distance, unfocused. 

He cleared his throat and Jim looked up, expression lightening. Leonard gave a small smile in return. “Hey there.”

“Hey Detective, Spock just got in the shower, he should be out in a bit.” 

Leonard nodded, frowning at the unexpected use of his title. “Mind if I sit?” 

“Sure, no problem.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute before Leonard quietly spoke up. “How are you holding up, Jim?” 

Jim froze up at the question, slightly startled. “You know, fine I guess.” 

Leonard’s eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline before he pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed and said, “You literally had a breakdown yesterday, Spock was hurt, you saw your bastard of a child abuser, and disappeared for an hour. You can’t believe I really think you’re fine? I’m asking because you’re my friend Jim, and I care. How are you doing, really?” 

“I told you already, I got chased by a goose.” Jim deftly avoided the question. 

“Okay, why were you in the parking lot in the first place?” Leonard just as doggedly pursued it, pausing before asking, “Were you going to leave?” 

Jim whirled toward him at that, confused shock evident on his face. “What? No! I wouldn’t leave Spock like that, I just needed some air.” 

“Jim,” Leonard said gently, once again weighing how well he felt he knew these two with how long they’d actually be interacting, “Spock implied that you’d left him like that before. He wasn’t angry, but I just... I want to know if you’re okay. I’m just trying to figure you out, figure out how you could bear to leave his side for even a second after how panicked you were about him.” 

Jim glared daggers at him and Leonard could practically see his walls rising up. “Don't you dare imply that I care about him less,” he practically snarled. 

Leonard winced, holding his hands up. “I’m not saying anything about how much y’all care about each other. The kind of love you two have? It’s... It’s once in a millenia. It’s damn blessed, and I’m thankful you both have it. But that doesn’t mean that yesterday you weren’t hurt too. It wasn’t just Spock who suffered, and that was clear when something drove you from his side. Please, tell me what you’re feeling.” 

Jim settled, anger melting from his shoulders as he glanced away. He drew his knees into his chair, sitting cross-legged, and crossed his arms over his torso, physically closed off. He was so silent that Leonard thought he wasn’t going to answer, but after a minute he gave a half shrug. “I don’t know, bad I guess. Upset.” 

Leonard nodded, prompting him onward and braving the space between them to set a hand on his shoulder. Jim shuddered at it but didn’t pull away, staring at the closed door to the bathroom where the water made a soft white noise through the room, drowning out the sound of the hospital outside. “I don’t... I’m feeling a lot, I think,” he finally sighed, glancing at him. “I was scared, really scared. And so angry. I mean, obviously you saw,” he said, self-deprecating, and Leonard rubbed his shoulder. “And then... I know that- that it doesn’t make any sense to blame myself for it. But it was...” He shuddered, harder, and leaned towards Leonard as if pulled by some outward force, eyes distant. “We... were put through twenty years of hell. I was. I dragged Spock along with me. And they- we had so many things said to us- I just can’t help but think Sarek was right. I should’ve stayed away when he arrested me. I should’ve just left Spock alone.” 

Leonard sucked in a deep breath before letting it back out. “Jim, Sarek was definitely not right.” 

Jim tensed before shrugging under his hand. “Yeah, well, okay.”

“I mean it, he wasn’t right.” Jim nodded in response, but it was hollow, and Leonard gave him another pat on the shoulder. “Do you want to talk about this anymore?” 

“No,” Jim said instantly. “But I probably should.” Leonard snorted wryly. 

“I’ve discovered the things we want aren’t always good for us,” he conceded. Another beat of silence fell, and then his shoulder was a rest for Jim’s head, blond hair brushing against his jaw. 

“If Sarek was wrong,” came the choked question, quiet, “why didn’t anyone stop him? Why didn’t anyone stop Frank? Why did- Why did Spock have to suffer too?” Leonard was speechless for a moment, and Jim took a deep breath before forging forward again. “Why does everyone hate that I love him?”

“I don’t hate it.” He paused, letting it sink in. “And I don’t know why no one stopped them. I’m sorry you had to suffer. I’m sorry Spock had to suffer. You didn’t deserve that, and you still don’t.” He could hear Jim swallow, his breath soft against his throat. 

“I just keep wondering if I left, if he could get better. If he would be better without me.” It was whispered into his skin, and he repressed a shudder, thinking that he was too sober to be having a conversation like this, trying to save the relationship of two men he was suddenly realizing he was far too invested in. 

“You would like to leave?” 

Leonard startled, clutching Jim tighter to his side in defense and staring up at Spock, wet hair plastered to his forehead and eyes wide and glittering, hurt reflected in them. He wondered if he had ever met two men more terrible at communication, as it seemed Spock had completely misinterpreted the last of Jim’s statements. 

“Don’t sneak up on people!” he hissed, his heart beating hard, but Spock had no eyes for him, staring at Jim. 

Jim floundered for a moment. “Fuck, no, what? Spock, I don’t want to leave.” He held up his hands, interrupting Spock’s sure to follow question. “I just- I just don’t want to burden you, or hurt you. I’m a mess, and I don’t want to hold you back.” Jim hung his head, wiping his hands down his pants.

“You have always been my burden,” Spock replied, which sounded like it should’ve almost been romantic, but thinking about it, it only made Leonard more concerned. “And it is my decision to bear you. Besides, you act as if I am not as messy as you are.” 

Leonard’s heart ached in his chest as he watched these two idiots,  _ his two idiots, _ he realized. These two, who came crashing back together each time, no matter what the world threw at them, offering up love by the handful, too scared to take any themselves. And they were letting him witness it, he who barely remembered what love felt like, who wondered on the best of days if he even knew what it really was, aching with the need to take some and not knowing how to offer any. 

He watched as they held each other’s hand, having an entire conversation he couldn’t be part of with their eyes only, and his throat felt tight with it, the with fierce want to be able to offer up his love as easily as they did. 

“Hey, Spock. I’m here to take your statement, if you’re ready.”

Christine watched the man across from her steadily, making sure her body language was open and not threatening. He wouldn't meet her eye, staring at the window where the shadows of cars passed through the blinds, hands clenched together in his lap.

"Well it's nice to finally meet you, Spock. I'll admit I was surprised you rescheduled. What happened last week?" It wasn't uncommon for patients to miss appointments, especially new patients, and she made sure her tone was sympathetic and unaccusing. 

"I was kidnapped," came the soft-spoken answer. "I apologize for missing our appointment." 

Christine forced herself not to tense, taking in the fading bruises along Spock’s jaw and the turtleneck in the middle of summer, also cataloguing his tense shoulders and fidgeting fingers. It wasn’t uncommon for habitual liars to say such things to her, especially on first sessions, or for those who were abused to make up outlandish excuses for their injuries to deter anyone from asking anymore questions, but Spock hadn’t filled out anything about compulsive lying, and his forms indicated he was single and lived alone. “You were kidnapped?” she prompted instead, hoping she put the right amount of worry into her tone and face to not scare him off but still prompt him to talk. New clients could be tricky to navigate, particularly one with such extensive trauma as his entry forms had indicated. 

Spock simply slid the paper he had been carrying, one he had taken from her waiting area, across the coffee table to her, page flipped open and folded to a specific article.  _ Psychic Investigator Who Aided Police in Cinco Reyes Case Kidnapped, _ the headline read in a half-page piece, and Christine could pick out Spock’s name from the article. She knew she had paled, quickly scanning the details of the article and glancing back up at her new client. He was watching her carefully, face blank and hands now still. 

“I asked them not to publish anything, as it is how he found me in the first place,” he said, softly, glancing down at the paper. “But I have no recourse to stop them.” 

“Found you?” she prompted, reaching over to fold the newspaper back to normal and tuck it next to her chair, promising herself to read it more thoroughly later. Spock looked away, back out the window, his fingers twisting together in his lap. 

“Frank. And my father, Sarek, they both found me through the news. But Frank was the one who kidnapped me -- my... my best friend’s stepfather growing up.” She sensed the hesitation about the best friend, but couldn’t yet determine why he would hesitate so. “He abused Jim for many years, and me, when I interfered.” 

This was not how she was expecting the appointment to proceed. Introductory appointments were generally low-stress and less personal as she and the client felt around each other and began to understand how to work together. But this was clearly an issue which needed to be worked through now, and Spock was willing to talk about it. “Why did he kidnap you?” 

“Jim ran away with me when I went to college, and at the time Frank threatened to find me and kill me. It happened that Frank was working for Cinco Reyes and owed them money, and believed if he sold me to them after Jim and I discovered their operation they would forgive his debt.” Christine felt like her head was spinning, trying to work through all of the information packed into those sentences. She at the very least worked out that Jim was the hesitant best friend, and they must’ve still been close if they were working together. 

“I know this isn’t something we can completely work through in one session, but if you’re willing could you tell me what you were feeling while that happened or after?” 

Spock sat quietly for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Scared, mostly, and a little angry. I was pretty heavily medicated so I was not lucid for much of the time I was missing. I was tired and hungry. Jim kissed me before I was taken to the hospital, and I liked that, it made me feel calmer.” 

Christine nodded. “Those are all normal and expected reactions to a traumatic event. Just to clarify, are you and Jim dating?”

She didn’t expect Spock to sigh, breaking eye-contact with her and glancing at the clock. “Not really,” he said finally. “I wish we were, but Jim is frightened of serious intimacy, and I understand. We are in what could be called an open relationship, I suppose, but he dislikes showing we are so close in public.” 

“Does that make you frustrated?” 

“I… am unsure.”

“God, Nyota, my new client is so fucked up,” she groaned into her arms, feeling Nyota nudge her bicep with a cold glass of something hopefully painfully alcoholic. It wasn’t often that she texted Nyota on her lunch break ‘i need a fucking drink babe,’ but today was definitely one of those days, and she regretted that she wished she weren’t working tomorrow so she could get shitfaced. 

“Aw Chris, I’m sorry. What’s up with them?” Ny asked, and she lifted her head to sip at her martini and squint at her friend. 

“He’s got more trauma than a damn fighting chicken, and anxiety to boot,” she sighed, resting her chin on her fist. “And I want to help him, and he really wants to get better, I think, but two sessions isn’t enough to undo literal decades of trauma and I can’t even figure out what to focus on first. He was kidnapped two weeks ago! You would think that would take precedence, right? But if you saw the rest of his file...” She rubbed her forehead before downing the martini in two gulps, shuddering. “It’s just one of those moments where I’m wondering if I can really help him, you know? One of those clients who make me think I’m in over my head.” 

Nyota took another sip of her drink and gave her friend a pat on the back. “That’s fucking rough, buddy.”

“I don’t even have a girlfriend to turn into the moon!” Christine wailed dramatically, making Ny break out in giggles like she’d hoped. The sound of her friend’s glee allowed some of the tension to leak out of her shoulders. “And don’t even get me started on his interpersonal relationships! The amount of co-dependence he and his best friend have makes my head spin. Well, best-friend-slash-tentative-romance. And he has a huge crush on one of the guys he works with. Not-works with, I guess it’s not his job, but he doesn’t talk about his actual job at all.”

“You said he got kidnapped two weeks ago?” Nyota asked, and Christine sighed, leaning against her. 

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It sounds like it was pretty bad, and I’m worried about the way he’s handling it. It was his best-friend-slash-boyfriend’s step-father. Or, ex-stepfather.” 

“Oh my God,” Nyota cried, and she nodded against her shoulder. 

“It’s good he wasn’t too badly hurt, but now he’s off his anti-anxieties due to it and he’s struggling.”

“That’s Spock!” 

Christine choked on the sip of martini she was drinking from Nyota’s glass. “Excuse me!?” 

“It’s Spock! The psychic that works with us! Wait…. What coworker does he have a crush on?” 

“Oh God,” she groaned, burying her face in her arms again. “I just broke patient confidentiality. Oh God, please don’t tell him, I don’t think he’ll be mad but I can’t stand it when he looks so sad and disappointed. HIPAA would have my license!” 

“Tough luck, sorry I’m so smart. I’m taking this with me to my grave, by the way. Is it Leonard? I bet it's Leonard.” 

“So how about that wedding planning?” she asked, muffled by her arms, knowing it was a poor and blatant way to try and distract her friend. “I’m not saying anything more about Spock or his sessions, so you can stop asking right now, Ny.” 

Nyota snorted. “I figured. Scotty and I have been losing our minds over venues, all the ones we want are booked solid till next year.” 

“Gross. Just elope.”

“You know Scotty wants a big wedding. His family would freak out if they couldn’t see him married.” 

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. They’re coming all the way from Scotland, right?”

Nyota nodded miserably. “They keep hounding us for dates so they can book their flight.”

“Book their flight? The wedding isn’t until next spring! Did you move it up?”

“No, it’s still next spring.” Ny shrugged, sipping at her drink. “It’s just a Scottish thing, I think.” 

They lapsed into silence, contemplating their alcohol. Christine looked up when someone came up beside her, glancing at the woman with long legs and a short skirt and beautiful red hair. She blushed when the woman glanced at her, giving her a once over and a grin. 

“Hey darling, you look stressed,” she purred, her voice low, and Christine’s face got hotter. “Can I buy you a drink? Maybe your friend too?” Nyota snorted behind her, elbowing her in the side when she took too long to respond. 

“Yes! Yeah. Christine.” 

“Gaila, sweetheart, but you can call me Gay. Everyone does.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let us know what you thought of this whole thing! We were a bit hesitant at first if this is where we should really go even though we wanted to, so we would love to hear your thoughts and feedback.


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